Angst: 20 Drabbles
by many-themiles
Summary: 20 angst-related drabbles, from the LJ comm drabble123. Sandy/Kerry with mentions of others.
1. Ache

There's always a dull ache in her hip – you know that – but when she's lying beside you in bed, her arm resting softly over your tanned abdomen, you realise that whenever she moves, she grunts, and tiny packets of air rush against the soft, naked skin of your back; it's obvious she's in pain. "Kerry," you whisper.

You want to ask her about her hip, but at the same time, you want to keep the peace and silence in the darkened room. The only light coming in is through the gap between the curtains, and the bright sunlight lies across your legs.

"Yeah," she murmurs, her lips resting softly on her back. She shifts slightly and you can almost hear the wince.

"Is your hip bothering you," you ask, even though you already know the answer. Kerry sighs; she doesn't have to answer you, she knows that. Instead of speaking, she nods, and you can feel it.

Peeling her pale arm off your abdomen, you turn to face her. There's a look of sadness, despair, in her eyes. You slide your hands over her naked form, softly caressing her painful hip. "You want something for the pain?" You ask and she shakes her head.

"Already took some, about an hour ago," Kerry answers. She puts her hands on your own hips, and you smile.

The room is warm – overly warm – like the weather, which is why the two of you are naked, in bed, in the middle of the day. Kerry had the day off and you aren't on shift until later. "Ok," you acknowledge; there are probably Tylenol in the nightstand, you realise – Kerry's been living with her hip her entire life.

You look into her eyes, and smile. You love that you love this woman – faults and all.


	2. Alone

They were alone; completely and utterly alone. It was just the two of them, in bed, alone, in the cabin, alone, in the forest, alone. Sandy had driven them out there, after they had both had particularly bad shifts.

For Kerry, it was the cancer diagnosis of a 5 year old and the death of a woman, alone, with no family to speak of, after a horrific car accident.

For Sandy, it was the sight of a 5-storey building collapsing, filled with men, women and children.

Neither of them could do anything about the death, but they could try and forget about the constant in their jobs – death, pain, suffering.

"So I was thinking," Sandy said, as she shut the door of the cabin, putting the wooden door between them and the cold, winter air, "that we could light a fire, eat some pizza and watch a movie."

The two women shivered as they stood in the small, beautiful cabin.

Immediately, Sandy went over to the large, open fireplace and quickly made a fire.

Soon, the room began to warm up, and they both took of their outer layers of clothing.

Kerry dropped her bag on the floor next to the door, next to Sandy's, and then walked to the couch, where she sat and watched with admiration at the sight of her beautiful, skilled girlfriend lighting the fire.

"Baby, come sit here," she said. And that's what Sandy did.

In each other's arms, they sat on the couch, being warmed inside and out by the heat of the fire. Sandy's legs rested on top of Kerry's lap, and their cheeks rested together. "Thank you for doing this," Kerry said. This was just what she needed; some R&R.

There they sat, not moving, for hours, warmed gently by the fire.


	3. Bitter

Kerry Weaver had been left with a bitter taste in her mouth after Kim Legaspi had left County General and moved to San Fransisco.

But that bitter taste had disappeared almost as soon as she met Sandy Lopez. Yes, she had been pissed off with Kim – for not understanding, for not getting it and for not staying with her long enough, but she pissed off with herself too; for not letting her instincts take over her; for not letting herself come to some kind of peace with her own sexuality; for not following her heart out to Frisco.

Now she's all over that – she's out, and she's got Sandy and she's happy – she's not bitter anymore. She won't forget Kim, and she won't forget their doomed relationship, for a long time. But she's not bitter about it anymore; about the way it ended, the way it started or the bit in the middle. She's not saddened by the pain in Kim's eyes anymore; she's not scared of Romano's reaction anymore; she's not scared of what her colleagues and friends will think anymore; she's not emotionally exhausted anymore.

She has Sandy Lopez to thank for that. Their relationship is simple and perfect and oh-so good. They are completely compatible, which they both still find a little weird, and perfectly comfortable around each other, right from the moment that Kerry had gone and kissed her in the street.

Kerry won't forget Kim – not for a long while – but right now, she has Sandy. And Kim is in the very back of her mind; pushed to the back of her memories.

She's not bitter anymore, and she has Sandy Lopez to thank for that, she is sure. But she also has someone else to thank – Kim Legaspi.


	4. Bleed

It had been an unusually quiet night in the ER. There were few patients and the waiting room was empty.

The blissful quiet of the usually-bustling Emergency Room was music to the ears of the nurses and doctors of County General.

Susan Lewis and John Carter, two of the MD's working the night shift, were finishing off paperwork at the Admit Desk, whilst the nurses were generally mucking around.

As the doors to the Emergency Room slid open almost noiselessly, Carter looked up: "Doctor Weaver?" Their boss had entered the ER with blood on her shirt and with Sandy's arm around her shoulders. The other woman was almost hopping forward, one leg not moving at all.

"A little help," she said, her voice strained, like her body, at keeping Sandy from falling down.

Susan looked at Carter and tried not to laugh; it was weird seeing Kerry Weaver out of work. The two of them made their way towards where the women were standing. Susan let Sandy put her arm around her shoulder, and nudged Sandy in the direction of an empty gurney, with Kerry and Carter following. "What happened?"

"I dropped a knife and it caught me on the leg," Sandy said, sitting on the bed and swinging round to put her leg up.

Susan took a look at her leg and almost winced; that was going to be a LOT of stitches. "Ok, I'll be back in a minute." As she walked off with Carter beside her, Sandy shuffled across the gurney so that Kerry could sit next to her.

"Carter, you want to do it?" Susan asked, looking over at the two women in awe; they were so obviously in love. Carter nodded, watching the two women almost as intently as Susan; that was true love.


	5. Broken

Sandy Lopez's hand hurts. It really, really hurts.

She doesn't want to admit it – because it's in her nature; it's been in her nature ever since she was a kid – but it really hurts.

She also doesn't want to admit it because it means she'll be forced to go to the hospital, and she really, really wants to keep control of the scene – not because she doesn't trust her colleagues (she does; she trusts them with her life every day she's on the job) but she doesn't like relinquishing control, and she doesn't want to today. Not now, not when she's already soaking wet and freezing cold and has a headache from screaming at her colleagues and the paramedics and that crazy doc from County.

"Fuck," she curses under her breath.

The doc looks over at the Latina firefighter, concerned for her well-being. "Are you alright?"

Sandy is surprised that the doctor – Weaver, she thinks the woman's name is – is concerned about her, considering the circumstances and the fact that she is still standing and breathing properly.

"Fine," Sandy replied, holding up her hand, "just hurt my hand earlier."

Suddenly, the doctor's skilled hands are holding Sandy's, and it's feels fantastic, to have some contact with this woman – who she barely knows, yet wants to hold tight.

"You need to come by County after all of this-" she points in the general direction of the chaos that is surrounding them "-to get it checked out. It could be broken, and it needs stitching up."

Sandy doesn't know what to say. She had never expected to see anyone so calm and collected in this crazy time and place.

"I'll stop by the hospital after this is all over." Sandy agrees – and she knows which doctor she's going to ask to see.


	6. Cruel

Sometimes, Kerry Weaver's co-workers are mean. Sometimes, they can be horrible and cruel – about patients whose illnesses are funny, to other hospital workers, even to other ER staff. Most of the time, it's just harmless gossiping.

That's why Kerry Weaver is scared to come to work the day after Sandy kissed her in the ER. She's scared of them staring at her, at them talking about her behind her back; most of all, she's scared of over-hearing them talking about her, and not being able to react.

So it surprises Kerry that – when she's taken some deep breaths, and calmed herself down as much as possible in the break room – as she steps out into the busy ER, not a single staff member turns to look at her, to stare or laugh or smirk at her.

Instead, Chuni passes her a chart when she goes to the Admit Desk and asks her to have a look at a guy who's been here for hours. Kerry nods, and looks up at the Latina, after looking at the chart. She's sure there's a look of admiration in the nurse's eyes.

Kerry spends her day going about her job; her shift is not unusual, except by the end of the day, there's almost no one in the ER. It's a rarity for all of them, and every doctor on shift is using the unexpected lull in patients to catch up on paperwork, including Kerry.

By the time she looks up to the clock, to see that her shift is 2 minutes away from being over, Kerry has completed all of her charts, and everything else she needs to do. It's weird – this shift has been patients and paperwork, not personal lives and pointless gossip.

Kerry is grateful for that. And very, very surprised.


	7. Cry

There are few days that it would be this way - Sandy crying, and Kerry holding her - but that's how it is today, and there's nothing either of them could do about it.

Sandy had rung Kerry at work, her words dented with the edge of the alcohol she had obviously been drinking. Kerry had been out of there as fast as was physically possible. She had gotten Susan to cover her shift and then she had made her way out into the dark, cold Chicago night to find the bar where the love of her life was sat, drinking away her pain and sorrow.

She had found the brunette Latina in the darkened, loud bar. She had paid the tab and pulled Sandy's coat on her. She had gotten them on the almost-deserted El, had gotten them home.

Sandy was numb, like something Kerry had never seen before. Six dead. Six of Sandy's friends had been killed in the fire they had fought today, and Kerry knew she could do nothing to help with that pain.

"Sandy," Kerry said quietly, pushing her partner in the direction of the bedroom. She had slowly undressed the two of them, before throwing a pair of sweat pants and a sweatshirt at Sandy and pulling on some more comfortable clothes herself. Then, she had gotten Sandy to lie down on the bed, and she had sat up in the bed, her head rest softly against the wall. She pulled Sandy towards her, and the drunken, silent woman gripped onto Kerry's soft body, before letting the tears fall-fall-fall. They didn't stop, and all Kerry could do was stroke her lover's hair as the two of them sat in almost-complete silence.

The tears continued to fall, and Kerry hated Sandy's job all over again.


	8. Empty

"Hey babe, you want some pizza?" Sandy shouted from the kitchen where she sat, with a huge pepperoni pizza in front of her.

Kerry – dressing for work in their bedroom – smirked and picked up her bag, before walking into the kitchen. "That's not good for you, you know that right? And it's not good for the baby either." The doctor in Kerry came out as she watched with delight as Sandy devoured the pizza, finally managing to keep food down without feeling nauseated. "I'm eating my greens and taking my vitamins. A pizza can't harm him can it?" Sandy said and Kerry laughed; "Him? It's a boy is it?" Sandy nodded, her mouth filled with half-chewed pizza. "I guess what mom says is word then," Kerry laughed.

"Don't you have to go to work?" Sandy asked as she finished eating her fourth slice of pizza. "I'm just leaving. Get some sleep, okay?" Kerry knew she didn't need to ask – Sandy could sleep like she could eat, and there was no doubting she would sleep like a log through the night, even with the bed half-empty and cold – but she did so anyway. "Yes and I'll take my vitamins. Come here." The Latina beckoned for Kerry to come closer.

Their lips met in a brief, chaste kiss and then Kerry was standing up, pulling her bag onto her back and her scarf around her neck. "Try not to eat the entire contents of the fridge while I'm gone" was Kerry's leaving comment, and she walked towards the door of their apartment. "The _fridge _may well be gone when you get home! I'm pregnant, I'm never gonna be full!" Sandy exclaimed with a laugh as Kerry shut the door on her.

It was true: women in the second trimester could eat _anything._


	9. Fear

"Kerry," Sandy gasps her partner's name as she sits up in the darkness of their bedroom. "Kerry, wake up!" She says again, rubbing one hand protectively over her enlarged stomach and the other grabbing onto the redhead's forearm.

Then Kerry is awake, and they're sitting together, almost in shock, in the soaking wet bed. "We're having a baby." Kerry says, and then she's getting up, out of the bed, pulling the sheet with her. "Hospital. We...we're going to the hospital." Kerry is obviously in some kind of shock, because she's not making any sense, even too Sandy, who is about to push a baby out of her.

"Kerry, calm down." It's Sandy who is the one with the soft voice. "We're gonna do this. We're going to have a little boy or girl in our life. Help me get out of bed and change, and then we can grab my bag and go, ok?"

Sandy lifted her arm, reaching her hand out to take Kerry's hand in her own. They smiled at each other: "we're having a baby." Kerry said, obviously much calmer after Sandy's words a minute ago.

As they moved quietly, quickly, around the house, they made their way to the hospital.

Then they're in the hospital, in the ER, and Sandy is squeezing Kerry's hand as another contraction rushes through her body. They're both scared, but who wouldn't be. Kerry is nervous, because she's a doctor and knows about a thousand things that can go wrong when a baby is being delivered, and Sandy is scared as well, because it hurts –it really, really hurts, even for a fire fighter – and because they're actually doing this there's; there's no going back, no stopping.

But then, he's here: their son And suddenly, they're not scared anymore; they're ecstatic.


	10. Forsaken

You think you've gotten over it until something reminds you of her; a smell, a sound, a sight. The nurses are sharing a pizza in the lounge, and it reminds you of one the two of your shared, naked, in bed. There's Christmas music playing at the admit desk, and it's the same song that you opened Christmas gifts to. A firefighter comes through the door on a gurney, and in the trauma room, all you can see is Sandy, Sandy, Sandy.

Even in the two years since her untimely death, Kerry still finds these things remind her of her lover. She still remembers those seconds-minutes-hours. That time of heartbreak and almost ceaseless soul-shattering pain.

Kerry will never forget Sandy; the good times and the bad times, the funny times, and the sad times. Deep down, that woman will never be gone from her heart or her soul. But she has to get on with her life – she has Henry and work and friends.

There will always be tiny reminders of Sandy; her picture in Kerry's wallet, locker and home. And in her son, who looks so much like his biological mother.

Kerry has managed to move on – slowly, she's stopped crying herself to sleep alone in a bed she shared with the love of her life for 3 years, and managed to sleep the whole night through, only waking for the periodic cries of her son. She's even mellowed out more at work; the nurses seem to like her again, and the doctors don't seem to hate her as much as they used to. They don't hate her and they're there for her.

Kerry Weaver, knows that truly, she will never be able to live her life now like she did when she had Sandy. But she can try.


	11. Goodbye

Kerry is not ready to say goodbye. But she has to at least act like she is, because she has to keep her emotions in check, not just for her son, but for her friends and colleagues at work. She doesn't want them to treat her specially because Sandy is gone, but she IS gone, and Kerry doesn't know how to react. Since the night of her death – when Abby had let her cry and cry and cry – Kerry has been almost emotionless.

Before she knows it, she's at the funeral. The past days have all blurred together - the funeral preparations; the shifts at work that have become mind-numbing and seemingly pointless (something that has never, ever happened to Kerry before); the time at home, alone, because Sandy's gone, and Henry's god-knows-where, anywhere but there - and now it's time to bury her wife.

She's standing on her own, with Sandy's friends by her side, and the Lopez family on the other. Kerry can see her son, but can't touch him. She hasn't seen him in days, and it's killing her, almost more so than knowing that she will never see Sandy again.

As they stand there, in the pouring rain (HOW IRONIC, Kerry thinks) the tears stream down the faces of Sandy's fellow firewomen and firemen. Sandy's parents and siblings all have tears rolling down their cheeks, too.

Kerry always cries at funerals, but not this one. This is too painful, too hard, too horrible and too unreal for tears. Kerry has yet to cry since she broke down in Abby's arms.

After the funeral, at the wake, everyone comes up to her, sharing their condolences, and wishes her well, but it makes no difference.

Kerry doesn't cry and doesn't let her emotions run away with her. Not yet.


	12. Infidelity

A year ago, this – dating Courtney, flirting with her and kissing her and thinking of her in a way Kerry Weaver has thought of few women – would have felt like infidelity.

It doesn't now though, because she has told Courtney about Sandy – at least, about her death – and they've talked it through, and Courtney has told Kerry more than once (multiple times, on multiple occasions, in fact) that she is fine with taking their relationship slowly.

It wasn't Courtney's promise to be gentle with Kerry in the beginning of their relationship that helped, or the late night hugs and talks and promises: it was the one night that Kerry had been alone in her apartment – Henry with his grandparents and Courtney out busy with something else – that had helped her deal with this...feeling.

She had ended up sitting on the sofa, holding a framed picture of Sandy in her hands, pouring her heart out to an inanimate object. She had shared her concerns, her fears, her pain, her suffering – and her wish for happiness, even with Sandy no longer in her life.

By the end of the night, Kerry has realised that Sandy would want her to be happy, no matter what. She would certainly have wanted the same thing, if it had been the other way round, and Kerry had been wheeled into the ER on that fateful, horrible day, which had been encrusted in Kerry's memory, unwittingly, forever.

"I'm going to be alright, Sandy," Kerry whispered to herself, having stopped talking out loud to the empty apartment a long while ago. "I'm going to be alright, with Courtney, and Henry is going to be alright, too. He's going to be fantastic. We're going to be fine."


	13. Loss

The letter stays on the pin board for almost a week. Then it's gone.

It's gone and no one notices, because Weaver's away, and then there are two children in the ER with smallpox, and everyone's in lockdown, and then it's just Carter and Abby; Pratt and Chen; Stan.

Then it's back to normal; the ER is bustling again. Patients and staff alike walk through the ER and no one notices the letter is gone until Kerry Weaver walks past it to enter the break room, and realises it's not there.

She doesn't say anything; after the past month, she wants to concentrate on her work, both as a physician and an administrator. Wants everyone else to concentrate on their work; treating and streeting Chicago's ill; injured; idiots. She goes about her business, albeit quieter than normal.

But when she goes home – to find the apartment dark and quiet, with candles lit and the smell of pizza wafting towards her – she can't help but feel a weight lifting off her shoulders. Her facade is dropped, and then she's holding Sandy close to her, letting her emotions escape. Sandy doesn't say anything, ask anything – and Kerry is grateful for this: she's not sure she can talk about it – but holds Kerry's body against her own and feels her relaxing in her arms.

"You want some pizza?" That's the offer, and then the two women are sitting down, not at the table, where Sandy had put candles that are now blown out, but on the couch, in each other's arms.

The room is quiet, and they're leaning against each other and it's then that Sandy hears her whisper "I miss him." Sandy's arms tighten around Kerry, and she presses her lips to Kerry's forehead.

One day, it won't hurt anymore.


	14. Poison

As she falls, her helmet is knocked off, and her lifeline is gone.

One opening of her lips, one breath, and the poisonous gas passes through her lips, down her windpipe into her lungs. Through the alveoli, it passes into her blood, attaching it to her red blood cells.

The carbon monoxide particles which stop oxygen from travelling through her body are poisonous, dangerous and lethal. Sandy Lopez knows this; knows that soon she will likely die.

Her thoughts are of Kerry – of the beautiful woman she has spent unforgettable time with. She thinks of their fights that ended up with hot, passionate sex; their quiet evenings in together; their commitment ceremony; the birth of their child. All the good times.

Kerry drifts in and out of her thoughts as she laid; the smoke and fire engulfing the building around her. As she drifts between consciousness (and coughing and frightful, incomprehensible pain that is radiating from her thigh) and unconsciousness, Sandy's thoughts are of Kerry and Henry. Of her family – her mom and her dad and her brothers, sisters, aunts, uncle, nieces, nephews – and her friends, but mostly Kerry.

Sandy drifts from conscious reality one last time, and as she falls into unimaginable darkness, she is picked up and carried out, over the shoulder of her friend.

The next thing she knows, and she's in the hospital. She's groggy and in pain that is only slightly numbed by the industrial-strength painkillers that she knows are running through her veins, but she's alive. And her lovers hand is resting softly on hers, and the striking red hair of her soulmate is all that Sandy can see of her. "Kerry," she whispers, her voice almost unrecognisable in all of its croakiness.

Kerry looks up, her face filled with happiness and surprise. "Sandy."


	15. Rejection

Kerry's body rejected that baby; the fetus – the being inside of her – and it breaks her heart.

And Sandy knows. Deep down, she knows; as soon as she gets home, she opens the door and see's Kerry's shoes and coat by the door.

Sandy was expecting to be home hours before Kerry. Her shift finished at 6, Kerry's at 7, and even then, the redhead had two meetings to attend before she could even contemplate coming home to sleep.

"Kerry," Sandy calls out her name, wondering where she is.

As she walks through the apartment, looking for the telltale crutch of her lover, she knows that something is wrong.

She finally locates Kerry in their bedroom, lying on their bed, her hands resting on her abdomen, and an empty, sad look in her eyes.

Immediately, Sandy knows that their dream of a baby is gone, at least for the time being. Cautiously, she walks towards Kerry, and sits on the edge of the bed. "When?" She asks, simply.

"A couple of hours ago. Abby dropped me home." Kerry answers, her voice soft and sullen.

"Why didn't you call me?" Sandy asks. She's not disappointed she didn't get a phone call, mainly because she's currently number by the knowledge that her partner is having – has had – a miscarriage.

"I didn't want to bother you at work," Kerry replies, "I'm sorry – I should have called – I just...couldn't think straight."

"It's alright," Sandy said, taking Kerry's hands in her own. "I understand."

Kerry could feel the tears that had been boiling up for eyes being to cloud over her eyes.

Sandy could see them. "Move over, baby," she said.

There, the two of them lay on the bed together, arm in arm, mourning the loss of their baby.


	16. Scar

There are scars on Sandy Lopez's gorgeous, tanned body. They are there from events that span over a huge range of time. They are reminders of the good days and the bad days, the days filled with the danger of the job, and the days, long ago, of hockey games and ice-skating with girlfriends long gone.

Kerry loves the scars that scatter her girlfriend's body. She loves to kiss and caress them when they're making love. She loves to run her fingers over them, teasing Sandy to know end.

Kerry loves it even more when they are having a lazy day in bed, when Chicago is too cold to move out of the comfort and warmth that is the cocoon of their bed, or too hot to think about moving the mattress upon which they lie, naked and sweaty, and she manages to coax Sandy into sharing a story about a certain scar that the redhead has come across.

The story of the party at work with the drinking and the ladder that caused the small scar on Sandy's knee makes Kerry laugh; the story of the debris flung in every direction from a collapsed building, which led to the appearance of the searing red scar on Sandy's hip makes Kerry reach across Sandy's washboard-flat stomach to grapple for her hip, and the scar she knows is there; the story of the death of two of her colleagues, and many other innocent people, due to a fire in a large warehouse, and landed Sandy with a small mark on her forehead, a gash on her arm and an almost invisible mark on her back, brings tears to Kerry's eyes, and as she looks up at Sandy, there are tears there too.

She loves the person behind the scars.


	17. Secrets

Secrets. Kerry Weaver has kept secrets her whole life, but this secret is killing her.

It's killing her because it drove Kim away, and now it's going to drive Sandy away, too.

It's killing her because she's scared – so, so scared – to come out.

But when Sandy kisses her in the ER, all of those long-kept secrets seem to fade away. As the Latina's lips descend upon Kerry's soft, sweet lips, the secret she's kept to herself for more than a year is gone. It's in the wind, and it's just her and Sandy.

A weight lifts off her shoulders, and even as Sandy leaves the ER and Kerry walks back towards the waiting onslaught of never-ending patients, feeling the stares of multiple ER staff on her back, Kerry can't help but be thankful for Sandy coming along and outing her in the middle of her workplace.

Yes, she should be pissed. Yes, she should be upset. Yes, she should be annoyed and angry and feeling let down. And she feels every single one of those emotions rush through her body, plus plenty more, but the one that surges through all of those is the feeling of relief.

Of being free, of being out and most of all, being truthful.

Kerry Weaver has been keeping secrets all her life, but this – her sexuality, her person, her being – is no longer secret, and deep down, beyond all of the worries and fears and misgivings about the ER staff, she is pleased.

That's why she goes to find Sandy after she finishes her shift. That's why she kisses her hard on the lips, in the street, in front of every person that walks past, and barely lets her fears come to the forefront of her mind.

She's free.


	18. Unrequited

At first, Sandy Lopez isn't sure that her feelings for Kerry Weaver are reciprocated. At least, not while they're in public. While they're in public – and especially whilst they're at the hospital – only someone with a really good gaydar would realise that two women were, in fact, dating.

This pisses Sandy Lopez off. A lot. But she's willing to wait for Kerry, because she thinks there could be something _really _good there. The two of them could be great together – could be really, really brilliant.

At Kerry's apartment, and at Sandy's apartment, they have fantastic sex. Really, really fantastic sex. But in public, they don't even hold hands.

That's when Sandy starts to back off – because she wants this to work out, so badly, but for the life of her, she can't stay with a woman who is so deeply closeted that she won't come out to her friends or colleagues.

Kerry wonders why Sandy's backing away, and Sandy gives her a simple answer: dating women in the closet isn't easy, and it rarely works out. Kerry's reluctant to come out of the closet – so reluctant that she even considers breaking it off with Sandy.

But she doesn't.

Which she is so, so glad about, soon enough. Because they're talking in the ER (and being interrupted by Abby) and then they're kissing in the ER.

And then Kerry's out, and there's nothing she can do about it. She can't take it back, or pretend it never happened.

Next thing, they're kissing in the middle of a busy Chicago road, and there are people all around, and Kerry doesn't seem to care. Sandy Lopez knows, by now, that Kerry Weaver shares the same feelings as she does – she just needed a shove in the right direction to show off those feelings.


	19. Untruth

Sometimes, in life, there are lies – white lies, like what you were doing going out for no reason (to buy a gift) and sometimes these lies are meaningless ("in a meeting", but not actually in a meeting). Occasionally, these lies are dangerous to a relationship; especially when the truth is revealed.

But this secret – this tiny little secret, that is only really a secret because Kerry didn't want a massive fuss, is not a bad secret. Not at all.

Once it's done – once they've had their commitment ceremony, with only a couple of their closest friends there – together. Together, together...forever.

They spend the night in bed; making love, and lying together. Naked against each other, skin against skin. "I love you," is muttered by the two of them, as they lay exhausted in their bed, sweaty and sated.

When Kerry goes to work next day, with a smile the size of Texas on her face and a ring on her finger that would make any woman within the hospital jealous, people know that something has changed. That something about Kerry Weaver has immensely changed her, forever.

People ask her – Susan and Pratt and Abby and the others – but the only one who Kerry tells is Abby, who smiles and gives her friend a hug. There's gossip all over the ER, and in many of the other hospital departments, too, because Kerry Weaver is rarely – if ever – this happy.

But, at the end of the day, Kerry is just happy to go home. To see her lover and her friend and her _wife, _and eat with her and hold her and bring her to the very edge. She can't wait to make love to her lover from now until forever. She can't wait to kiss her and love her.


	20. Writers Choice

It has been far too long since Sandy Lopez has slept in her bed with Kerry. What with her crazy shifts and Kerry's crazy shifts, not to mention administration duties, and all of the other things going on in their lives, the two women haven't slept together in the same bed for more than a couple of hours in the last month.

Which is why she's gotten desperate and made sure that neither of them have to be in work before noon the next dat. The redheaded doctor had finally made her way to bed at around midnight, after doing copious amounts of boring admin work, and Sandy – who had managed, somehow, to stay awake, even though she had been up since 5 in the morning – put her arms around Kerry's waist as she climbed under the covers.

Her over-sized night shirt slid up over her hips as Sandy's arms moved over her toned abdomen. Whilst her hands caressed Kerry's hips and stomach, she leant forward, moving Kerry's beautiful red hair out of the way of her neck, before being to softly kiss her neck, moving straight – and teasingly slowly – towards the pulse point on Kerry's neck.

"Baby, I have work tomorrow," Kerry said, although she didn't seem to particularly mind Sandy's ministrations.

Reluctantly, Sandy pulled her lips away from Kerry's soft, pale skin: "Not until noon you don't" she murmured, before going back to caressing her lover's neck and stomach.

Kerry conceded her point, and leaned in to Sandy's body. Slowly, as she continued to tease Kerry with her soft touch, Sandy managed to get the over-sized shirt over Kerry's head, leaving the pale-skinned woman glad in only her panties. "Mmmm," Sandy murmured, pushing Kerry onto her back, "I am _so _glad we can finally spend some time together."


End file.
